Eye of the Forest by P. B. Kerr Page A

face.”
    “Kind of like liposuction,” said John. “I get it.”
    “This happened plenty of times,” said Sicky. “And all the time my body was growing, my head was shrinking. Of course, I would have cried out for help. Because my own people were looking for me. And to prevent this, the Xuanaci sewed my lips together with these cords that you see I still wear.”
    “What happened next?” asked John, who was fascinated by Sicky’s story. “Did they let you go?”
    “When my head was plenty small they held a special
pernocabeza
— a feast at which I was the guest of honor. They gave me a drink that contained all of the fat drained from my own head.”
    “And did you drink it?”
    “Of course. If I had refused, they would have killed me for sure. This fat made my body much bigger than it would have been, and which made my head seem much smaller, too.”
    “Makes sense, I guess,” observed John. “What happened then?”
    Sicky shrugged. “They gave me a mirror that they had once traded for a shrunken head and let me look at myself. Which they thought was plenty funny.”
    “And how
did
you feel?” asked Philippa who, in spite of herself, was equally fascinated.
    “Sick,” said Sicky. “Very sick. Sick to my stomach. How would you feel?”
    “Sick,” agreed Philippa.
    “Then they let me go. I went back to my village and everyone was plenty pleased to see me, but also very sad because of what the Xuanaci had done to me and my head.”
    “And did you ever get revenge on them?” asked John, who, being a boy, was inclined to think that way.
    “Oh, yes. But many years later.” Sicky looked at Mr. Vodyannoy and smiled.
    “I was on vacation down here,” said Mr. Vodyannoy, “and Sicky saved my life. Stopped me from being bitten by a
Scolopendra gigantea,
a Peruvian giant centipede. These are highly venomous and quite deadly. Even more so to djinn than to mundanes.”
    “I guess that’s only fair, given that we’re immune to snake venom,” said John.
    “How giant are they?” Philippa asked.
    “They can easily reach fifteen inches in length,” said Mr. Vodyannoy. “Anyway, I gave Sicky three wishes. And after wasting the first one —”
    Sicky grinned sheepishly as he remembered it. “I wished that I knew if he was telling the truth or not. And then, of course, I did.”
    “So, forgive me,” Zadie said carefully, “and no offense, Sicky, but why didn’t you wish for a normal-sized head?”
    “Because I didn’t want one,” Sicky said simply. “I was used to my head the size it was. So was everyone else. It didn’t seem that important.”
    “I get it,” said John. “Your second wish was to have revenge on the Xuanaci.”
    “Oh, no,” said Sicky. “My second wish was to have my own business. Here in the jungle. To support my family. Which is how I have this tour and expedition company. My third wish was to have the tattoo I told you about. The one that turns things to stone.”
    “And I thought you were a sculptor,” said Philippa.
    “Those very lifelike statues of animals I’ve seen around the place. Those were once real animals, weren’t they?”
    “Yes,” said Sicky. “I make some money by selling them to tourists.”
    “And the Xuanaci?” said John.
    Sicky grinned sheepishly again. “You are right, boy. One day, using this tattoo, I went deep into the jungle, looking for some Xuanaci and turned some of them to stone, too.”
    “Wow,” said John. “How did you feel about that?”
    “Sick,” said Sicky. “Very sick. Sick to my stomach. It gave me no pleasure to do that. Anyway. Perhaps you will see the statues for yourselves since we will have to go upriver, deep into Xuanaci country, to get to where you want to go.”
    Groanin returned to the table.
    “Do they still hunt heads?” John asked with one eye on Groanin.
    Sicky shrugged. “Difficult question. I have not seen any Xuanaci for a very long time. So, maybe yes. Maybe no.” He smiled at Groanin and added